


Five times Beca let Chloe walk away

by Doccutroll



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doccutroll/pseuds/Doccutroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the one time she didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback most welcomed!

As someone whose world is made of squiggly notes in between bar lines, majors, minors, diminished and augmented triads, Beca Mitchell knows that she’s a little slow on the other aspects of life.

She excels in theory – she’s someone who manipulates _music, duh_ –  such as how Hollywood plots its movies, that getting hurt doesn’t compensate for missing out on certain things, and how maybe some couples are just better people when separated than when together.

And as a child of parents who overindulged her with electronics to make up for missed outings, empty seats in performances, and a table-for-one at dinner five times a week, she’s learned to rely on Wikipedia, Google and message boards for survival advice.

She _knows_ – she knows that she should run _away_ from strangers who barge into her shower, coerce her to sing their _lady jam_ and bring her into a cult. She should slam the door at the face of the goofy boy-next-door, who’s managed to knock a few bricks off her wall through sheer bullheadedness. And now, she should consider her end of the bargain well fulfilled, and hightail it to the place of her calling.

So when she does nothing of that sort, and finds herself running _back_ to said cult after storming off, into the _arms_ of said boy-next-door, and planning the set for next year’s competition, she knows Chloe must have been talking out of her ass the night she handed Beca the chalice and told her it was Boone’s Farm.

She’s willing to bet her headphones that it was industrial strength Kool-Aid that Chloe probably doesn’t even know about. She wouldn’t put it past _Aubrey._

Speaking of which.

The co-captain was waving all the Bellas over for a group photo with the trophy. As they gather on stage, people half covering their ears against the shrill-as-always _places, everyone,_ Beca hangs around at the back and contemplates shifting her Bella’s scarf from her wrist to her neck.

One never knows if working for Aubrey Posen involves a twenty-four-seven stand-by – and, in this case – for disobedient Bellas. Even if the Bella-in-suspect helped give the Treblemakers their biggest beat down in years.

But before she can search Google on whether wolves preferred to use their nails or teeth when _gently extracting_ vocal chords, sweaty hands pull her to the front. 

“Wait, _don’t –_ ”

_…make eye contact._

_Or any sudden movements._

_Or blink._  

By the time she realizes that she’s done all three things, their photo’s taken, and she holds up both hands to ward off Aubrey, who’s reaching out for her –

“Chloe!”  

Time to call for reinforcements.

But maybe these are invisible wolves because the way Beca asked for her other co-captain resembles a toddler’s squeal, instead of the powerful alto of an _ICCA champion_.

“Beca!”

Then again, maybe not, since she’s pretty sure Chloe’s done nothing to invoke the wrath of the Bella Gods(-disguised-as-Aubrey-Posen).

“Thank you – thank you for coming back,” Chloe whispers into her ear, and despite the screaming and shouting and someone telling the Sockapellas to put a sock in their – nevermind – around them, Beca _knows_ that it’s not just exhaustion or nerves.  

Many of her learned ‘theories’ may have been proven wrong tonight, but this is sound, and this is Chloe.

“Hey, what happened to your thro – dude, did you cry?”

She grimaces at her tone as soon as the words come out, and a strong arm – strong enough to slap the butts of _every_ Bella three times a day for months – loops around her shoulders.

“She’s just happy,” Aubrey reassures her, and she looks back at Chloe, who nods to confirm it. As Beca watches them look and smile at each other, there’s something about this that she can’t quite explain. It sounds like a song that has different key signatures, changing beats and it’s jovial, but…

There’s something else, and as soon as she starts to protest, someone _else_ places their arms around her. She wonders if everyone’s just forgotten about basic manners and decides to drag people around and interrupt as they _effin_ –

“Hey, babe.”

Oh.

And there’s that smile on the faces of her captains again as they step away to give her and Jesse space. Her ears are still slightly deafened by all the raucous in the hall, but judging on how Aubrey’s lips moved, she’s pretty sure she’s saying “thank you” instead of “Off with your vocal chords”.

Even though Aubrey’s hugging her really tightly and has the perfect opportunity to make death threats without being overheard.

This really is a night is full of surprises.

But not all of them are pleasant, for when Chloe moves forward, she barely looks at Beca in the eye, and her _hug_ – if it even constitutes that – lasts for a millisecond. In an attempt to determine what’s wrong – if her nodes are hurting, if she needs tea, ice, anything – Beca accidentally mushes her lips to Chloe’s face.

For someone who flung apart her shower curtains, _spoons_ her when coaching dance moves, stepping back from an accidental kiss on the cheek like she’s been electrocuted would probably never be on the list of ‘expected reactions’.   

All her life, being – and _wanting_ to be – best with what she hears, Beca’s reconciled with herself that she’ll be behind in whatever else. Like maybe she can’t sometimes can’t see that she’s being an asshole to people who care about her, or miss what’s in front of her, or mistake the scent of sincerity for bullshit. 

So as she watches her captains rush off to some interview, with Chloe’s ‘happy tears’ lingering on her lips, she’s amazed to learn that she can taste sadness in salt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story was supposed to be around 2,000 words -_-
> 
> Mitchell and Beale clearly gave no effs to my outline, little shits that they are.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it – and your feedback would be much appreciated!

_Of course_ they don't last.

No happily-forever-after for the girl whose own parents ended up in, as she told people around her when she was 14, "the divorce to end all divorces".

Her relatives looked aghast at her, like what a _horrible_ thing to say and _this_ is what happens when broken families –

Time to put on her headphones.

Her best friends had a similar expression as well, but soon learned to giggle at it – in fact, by the third week since she's said that, they've now moved on to stories of chalk lines drawn straight between the house.

On how she's subsisting on pizza because her mom has the electricity, but can't use the water to cook. Or how the first yelling of the day isn't from yet another argument, but from her dad, who has all the water in the world, but still can't have a hot shower.

And as the stories increase in magnitude, so does the eyeliner, as does the volume in her music player(s).

She's sure that in two months, she'll have advanced to how Snow White ended up poisoning the prince herself – the evil queen would have left _detailed_ instructions somewhere, okay; she's a queen – she doesn't do _sloppy_. Or how Prince Eric "accidentally" threw Ariel back into the sea – legs and all – because he just couldn't get Ursula out of his mind.

At least she's guaranteed an A plus in AP English – or a doctorate in symbolism-in-parental-separation-and-abandonment.

Whichever gives her better protection against the storms that brew inside of her.

Anyway, back to her own separation.

At least they aren't bringing _children_ into this mess, she says half in jest to Jesse, whose expression says that he doesn't think it's funny at all _God Jesse I was only kidding, don't look like I killed our kid or something_. Maybe this is why he's dumping her; the inappropriate jokes at serious times may have been charming to him at the start, but would have surely worn off after the first anniversary.

But this is all she has left in times like these, and if he doesn't get it, maybe breaking up isn't such a bad thing after all. She's always hated how she inadvertently became a cliché herself anyway, as Amy never fails to remind her. Of how the Ice Princess' heart was melted and won over by the goofy prince.

(Chloe may be the one this time to gasp and force her to sit through a couple more Disney feature animations so that she'd finally get her story lines _right_.)

Fourteen-year-old Beca Mitchell would have traveled to the present – after building that time machine herself – and gave her the ass kicking of her life, if she knew.

So another one bites the dust.

She fails again.

Whatever.

* * *

"No, I just don't get why we're putting this in the set, it isn't gelling with the rest of the songs!"

"Oh my god, how many times do we have to go through this before we –"

She supposes it's nobody's fault but her own to think that better days are ahead after the Bellas find their voice. Or after she and Emily received good reviews for the song.

Emily is the only the only person Beca didn't correct when she gushed about how she single-handed created "The Bella Sound", and that was because Beca was busy pretending that she's been at the party the whole time.

Nobody else gets away with it, because it just isn't true. The girls trust her for the most part, but every Bella set – from their charity performance in preschools to the ICCAs – doesn't see the light of the day before it has everyone's sign-off.

And most of these sessions, while not as bad as pulling teeth or her parents' divorce, _duh,_ took time, arguments, and – in the end – booze for everyone to agree.

Since the results are always an improvement on what she first presents, Beca's usually happy to sit back and let them have at it.

Tonight, though – she walks out of the house, knowing they won't even notice that she's gone – they are only hour one into their minimum-two-day to-and-fro after all.

Staring at the pool, she should have known that a campfire heart-to-heart wouldn't have solved anything; that her highs from doing slightly better in life after the retreat would only last so long.

The Worlds are only a few months ahead, but Chloe and she have led the Bellas _damn_ well so far, and they've pulled last minute stints that are way closer to this. And surely being handed more tasks at work is a sign that Sammy is starting to trust her?

She's also doing better since the break up, even if Jesse can't stop giving her that sullen look when they can't avoid each other in time, and her dad's non-stop calls or texts urging her to return his are probably to congratulate her on getting through college.

If she passes her finals, which are even _closer_ than Worlds, that is.

She doesn't know, then, why she's having trouble breathing. Maybe it's her mother's eyes that are staring right back at her stupid face. Eyes that used to crinkle from laughter at her dad's terrible high brow jokes before it all went to _shit._

Or maybe it's the pool water that's being _stupidly_ still, and seem to _not move_ even more _on purpose_ against her increasingly short breaths. Something's missing and it's feeding the storm that's about to eat her insides –

Is this it? Is life having the last laugh by punishing her for too many energy drinks and Taco Bells and _damnit why won't the Bellas stop calling for her and can her phone_ stop _ringing for one goddamn second_ –

_She'll show it._

And dives headfirst into the pool.

Messing up the calm waters with glee.

Resurfaces.

Dives under again.

* * *

She stops hearing her name, but is pretty sure she's not dead.

So the arms that are hauling her to the water surface probably don't belong to the devil. Because she's also pretty sure that Satan's voice doesn't have the gentle tilt of her co-captain.

Who's carrying her like a lifeguard does and asking her "And where do you think you're going?" like she was commenting on the weather. As if Beca didn't just jump into the pool with her blazer, jeans, heels, phone and all.

"Chlo."

_Splash._

"Chloe."

_Splash splash._

Only to be ignored like the naughty child that she is, judging from the way Chloe's shushing and making tutting noises.

"Beca, it's okay."

_Splash._

"I've got you," Chloe whispers.

And despite wearing jeans, both of them float on the water until she starts breathing normally.

The water is calm again.

But Chloe's with her.

The Bellas are going on without their leaders.

And the world keeps spinning.

* * *

It's almost one in the morning when both of them step foot in the house. Maybe Chloe's said something to the Bellas before, or maybe someone just had a midnight food craving. Either way, the entire group's shifted to the kitchen by the time they return.

She's hustled up the stairs, _straight to the showers, Mitchell_ , and when she's drying her hair in Chloe's room, Amy sticks her head into the room to say that her shared room with Beca is Beca's for the night, if she wants. Chloe shakes her head and thanks her anyway.

So there's that, then.

Just like the night after Beca's break up with Jesse, Chloe's lying on her left side, facing away from the door. Beca had stumbled into the room after staying at the bar long after Jesse left, calling out for Chloe. She felt guilty when Chloe didn't even stir from the smell of what must be the floor of a distillery, so she decided – with her alcohol addled brain – to join Chloe in bed.

"Shh, it's me," Beca whispered. Or slurred. Whatever.

"Beca? What –"

"Don't – don't turn around," Beca pleaded. "Just stay where you are." Chloe seemed to understood what Beca needed – she always did – and did as she was asked.

She had stayed still as the gargoyles that Beca often advocate for – _"Don't hate on 'em, okay, it's not like they_ asked _to look like that,"_ – even as the back of her shirt got increasingly soaked. And stayed quiet as Beca, through sobs, told her how Jesse didn't want to be with her, didn't want _her_ anymore.

Sometime throughout the blubbering, she had reached behind, fumbling in the dark to search for Beca's hand. It was soon found and clasped tightly, and the crying ceased over time.

When Chloe confided in Stacie about the breakdown the next day – after Beca told the Bellas what happened (in so many words), Stacie didn't even have the heart to make a sex joke about how she had a hot cutie pie in bed and ended up with a soaked shirt as well as sore arms.

Chloe was grateful for that, and she suspected it was because Stacie had spotted two – instead of one – pillows in the sun. Pillows that took in the tears of two people the night before: one who didn't think she was enough, and one who knew she wasn't.

* * *

"You look deep in thought," Beca mumbles as she falls in behind her.

She hums, wondering if she should face Beca or stay put.

"Thanks, by the way," Beca continues, clearing her throat, "for just now. Did you want me to be quiet? Or I can go, if you –

She turns around.

"Beca," she coaxes, trying to catch her eyes, "it's okay. I'd do that for you anytime. I just didn't know if you wanted to talk about it or sleep or just…"

"Yeah, I haven't been communicating well with you, have I?" Beca says, scratching her nose. "I'm sorry I put you in this position."

"It's oka –"

"No, please, Chloe – hear me out," Beca finally looks her in the eyes, and Chloe stops. "I've wanted to apologize to you for leaving you alone to deal with the Bellas, for what I said at the retreat, and for making you second guess yourself when it comes to…dealing with me."

Oh. So it wasn't about what happened at the pool at all.

"Beca…" she sighs, unprepared to open _that_ can of worms. "I just…you knew that no matter how obsess we are – or I am – with Worlds, or the Bellas, we'd never begrudge you for getting that internship, right?"

An affirmative nod.

"So what gives?"

"I…I don't know," Beca says. "I just felt guilty. And I kept meaning to tell you – I _did_ , Beale – and you were the first one I wanted to tell about Snoop Dogg, but…things just started piling on, and there was never a good time, then Sammy asked if I had anything original to say, and it's not something you want to announce to people, y'know?"

"Stop," Chloe chides her gently. "Beca, we're not 'people', and you know that no matter what you do, we'll always be proud of you. So you had a setback. We're here to help get you back on your feet again. We always will be."

"That's partly why I felt guilty," Beca replies softly.

"What?"

"That you'd always be here – that's not how I meant it, Chloe," Beca grabs her hand before Chloe can take it back. "I meant it literally – I felt guilty because I was afraid that you'd still be here, long past us, even after Emily's gone."

"Wow…" She tries to tug her hand away, but Beca's grip is unyielding. Throughout the years, Beca was the only one who never pushed her on graduating. She thought they had a mutual understanding, that Beca knew Chloe wasn't ready yet, that she needed just a little more time.

So she guesses Beca did mean what she said at the retreat. Did she…has Beca been thinking that she should have left since the beginning? Was she part of the intervention in her second super senior – wait, did she start it? Was that why Beca never told her about the internship – that Chloe's so far behind that it didn't matter if…

_Et tu, Beca?_

"Listen to me, please."

"No."

" _Chloe."_

"NO!" she yells, jumping out of bed, and regrets it as soon as she sees Beca's expression. Now Beca probably won't spit on her hand if it were on fire.

But she should have known – that the girl who's never ceased to surprise her, since her unconventional song at her audition, that underestimating Beca Mitchell was Aubrey's mistake.

Not hers. Never hers.

Because not only that Beca didn't let go of her hand, she yanked Chloe forward and latched on to her like…like they were back in the pool, only this time, Beca's drowning.

So she holds back just as tight.

"Why?" She says into Beca's hair.

"Why what?"

"Why are you always so fearless?"

"Fearless?" The laugh is half muffled by Chloe's shoulder. "Did you not just see me jump into the deep end of the pool in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly my point." She doesn't join Beca.

"Chloe, I was scared shitless."

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you always running into the future? Why are you always fixated on the next big mix? The next…whatever?"

_Why are you always going somewhere I can't follow?_

"Chloe – I've never learned how to live in the present. I looked forward to my own parents' divorce, _for God's sake_ , and high school was just generally sucky, so I dreamt of taking that flight to L.A. for years. That's not being fearless – that's running away."

"Then why are you doing it now – do you hate it here…?"

"God, Chloe, _no_ ," Beca says. "Look, promise me you won't be mad?"

Chloe almost laughs as she imagines freshman Beca Mitchell saying that to _anyone_ at all, much less now, when she's much more self-assured.

"Promise."

And then Beca's standing on her toes and whispering into her ear, " _You_ , Chloe Beale, you're fearless."

She laughs. And worries whether Beca's suffering from short term memory loss. Then shuts up when Beca's looking at her with her David-Guetta-serious face.

"Chloe," Beca continues, holding her shoulders, "you and Aubrey stood at the courtyard and handed out flyers from a sinking ship. You barged into my shower and wouldn't leave until I sang your _lady jam_ with you.

"You took a chance on me, _fought_ Aubrey on my behalf, and look at this year. The Bellas turned into a national disgrace overnight, and what did you do? Get us into Worlds. Which, by the way, is halfway across the world."

"But you just said at the retreat that I was –"

"I know, Chloe," Beca says. "And that's what…it scared me, okay? I just thought that you needed to fulfill your dreams or whatever at first, and then…

"I mean, all these years, I just followed you, wherever you went. And the past few years…"

"I stopped leading," Chloe finishes for her.

At Beca's silence, she pushes forward: "And you felt that you were on your own."

_Because you couldn't follow me any longer._

"And so you started to run headfirst into the future."

More acquiescing silence.

"But Beca, I've decided to graduate – why are you…"

"You've said that before," Beca mutters. "I didn't know if you were going to change your mind again."

"Beca – I won't. I really won't."

"I know," another muffled reply.

"Huh? But you just said…when did you know?"

"When you jumped into the pool with me and told me that you got me."

"Oh."

"You promise you're going to graduate?"

"I do so solemnly swear, that I, Chloe middle-name-redacted Beale – ouch! Mitchell, it's too early in the morning to be hit that hard!"

"Ass. Also, that's always been my line."

"What – 'you jump, I jump?'"

"Chloe!" They hang on to each other and fall back on to Chloe's bed, covering their mouths to stop their laughter from disturbing the rest of the Bellas.

"Alright, alright, I promise."

"That you will graduate, Beale."

"That I will graduate, Mitchell."

"And that you'll get out of Barden and won't look back. For whatever reason."

"And that I won't look ba – Beca, isn't that a bit drastic?"

"That you _won't_ look back, Beale. For whatever or whomever."

"…that I won't look back."

"Good enough." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey hijacked my story. I didn't have the chutzpah to tell her no. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy it anyway. As always, would be most grateful for comments/feedback.

One, two.

One, two.

Good.

Grace. Poise. Dignity.

Maybe there's hope for her yet.

Again.

One, two, step and turn.

To find herself staring into a pair of blue eyes that she's known in the best days of her life. That, for some reason, seem to be more intensely blue than she's ever seen. Who's also taking a one, two, forward and then she's enveloped in a hug.

"Bree."

And she's whisked back to the first time she met Chloe Beale: her flaming red hair, bright white teeth, bold color choices, and that perfume that was supposed to have choked her, but instead, bound her to a lifetime of friendship.

"Bree, I'm so sorry."

There's nothing to be sorry about, is what she wants to say. While she remains silent – knowing that her mother is watching them both – she knows that Posen Senior would have said the same thing.

After all, he died in his sleep – no prolonged hospital stays or suffering from the indignity of being weak for him. It wouldn't surprise her if he had timed his heartbeat to keep going until his youngest child had obtained his professional degree. Because there's no point in waiting for Aubrey to get hers –

 _Girl's too infirm. She'll never make it._ Right, dad? Nothing to be sorry about – everyone you thought should succeed has succeeded, so you thought you could leave.

_You ba –_

 

* * *

 

"Aubrey?"

_Poise_ , godamnit, Posen.

She wills herself to relax. "Chlo," she murmurs, "you came."

"Of course I did, Aub," Chloe rubs her back in harder strokes, but replies just as softly. "Of course I did."

Of course she did. Chloe had been there when she freaked out over an A minus average in her first semester, when she splattered the ICCA audience with her lunch, and when she morphed into an out of control captain. And when Chloe didn't leave her after that happened in senior year – _when she absolutely should have_ – she knew that it would take a lot more to chase away Chloe Beale.

It was also when Aubrey Posen swore to protect her best friend for as long as she could.

The other Bellas arrive at different times. It probably can't be helped, as coordinating cross country traveling requires serious organizational skills, and both she and Chloe are tied up with planning a funeral.

All the same, looking back at how she behaved in her captaincy – _do you want to be firm and effective, or do you want to be liked?_ – she's surprised and comforted to see Fat Amy, Stacie and Lily again. That they cared enough to come.

Bellas for life after all.

But she'll save her sentiments for the last person to arrive – when she does arrive.

"Really, she dropped everything as soon as I told her, but apparently everyone's trying to leave L.A. at the same time."

She's tempted to reach out and pull Chloe's lower lip away from her teeth, but she reassures her best friend with an "It's okay" instead.

"Mmkay. I just didn't want you to think that she's being late on purpose."

"Don't worry about it, Chloe. And hey – it's okay, too, y'know."

"Hmm?"

"To be excited about seeing her again."

"Aubrey, no –"

"It's okay. Really. It's been years, right?"

"Has it?"

_"Chloe."_

" _Fineee,_ " Chloe relents. "But at least we've Skyped and stuff."

Stuff. Well.

If that's what Chloe wants to call it, it's good enough for Aubrey.

 

* * *

 

"Aubrey! You're finally here!" Chloe's squeal can barely be heard over the traffic and music pumping from the clubs at the corner, but Aubrey feels her enthusiasm all the same.

"Hey, Chlo."

"I've missed you so much," Chloe says, and Aubrey allows herself to fall into her best friend's embrace, relieved to know that her best friend's warmth is holding its own against the New York winter.

"Me too."

"I love you," Chloe murmurs. After months of fighting with her dad about how she _might as well have gotten a job at Walmart instead of wasting my hard earned money on college if she never intended to pursue a law degree_ , she almost burst into tears on how her best friend just says it like it doesn't cost anything.

She pulls away before it happens. _Plenty of time to break down after you die._

Chloe carries her bags to the (only) bedroom in the apartment and gives her a tour. Unlike some of her siblings, Aubrey may not be gifted with a photographic memory, but she makes it up with observation skills. That's what she's been trained to do after all – _not being born with a gift doesn't excuse you for not working for it._

Anyway.

She realizes that Chloe's apartment is neater than she's ever known.

(After their first year of living together, she's finally got used to Chloe's mess (it's not personal – anything short of the Posen standard is a mess). It's not that Chloe's sloppy – she came to understand that the haphazard style of arrangement is merely a result of constantly high energy levels, which leads to endless touch-and-go projects.)

But one swipe of the coffee table and Aubrey deduces the cause: the home is missing an owner, who has a crazy intense workload of a social worker who's also attending law school.

Oh well. Plenty of time to clean up when Chloe's at –

"Beca, look who it is!"

Beca Mitchell's here? That complicates matters a little, since she's likely to mess up whatever Aubrey manages to clean up in five minutes.

Not to mention that she still owes her junior a _beatdown_ for hurting her best friend.

While Beca's falling for the _Treblemake_ r was unfortunate, Aubrey knew that it couldn't be helped. A year and a half ago, before they won the Worlds, however, was a different story.

Chloe was often nearly in tears when they spoke on the phone that year, talking about Beca's sudden closed up and distant demeanor, it took all of her willpower to not fly straight to Barden and _throttle_ Mitchell, fate of the Bellas be damned.

Aubrey's glad they made up at the retreat, but she's still unsure if Beca realizes how much she hurt Chloe in their senior year. And those are the times that Chloe actually told her what was going on – God knows what else Beca's done that Chloe didn't mention.

So. It's going to take a lot more than a campfire heart-to-heart and a world championship to trust that she won't hurt Chloe again.

"Yo, Posen."

Speak of the devil.

She turns around to find that Beca isn't there in person after all – just technology working its magic. She nods at the screen, exchanges the obligated pleasantries, and moves away to give them their space.

She flips through Chloe's textbooks and tunes out – but only a little, as is expected of a Posen who's guarding her best friend from a rebellious but immensely (and infuriatingly) talented alt girl.

And based on what she's hearing on and off from Chloe's speakers, she's…

"Chloe?"

"Bree?" Her best friend replies with a mouthful of _lo mein_.

"What's going between…"

"Hmm?"

"You and Beca?"

"Wha –?"

Aubrey wonders if being obtuse is a virus you can catch when you date someone long enough – even if it's long distance.

"What – Bree!" Choe laughs. And proceeds to throw a shrimp chip at her. Aubrey is not impressed – both at having food in her hair, and at Chloe's _weak_ attempt of distracting her from the topic. Did leading the Bellas for four years teach her nothing about holding steady under pressure?

_"Chloe."_

"We're not, Bree," Chloe replies and says no more.

Right. And Aubrey Posen totally isn't making up a list of cleaning supplies to buy when Chloe's at work tomorrow. Munching on the shrimp chip morosely – waste not, want not –

she wonders if that idiot's back with Jesse – _again_?

If she's toying with her best friend's heart, she swears to God –

"Bree. You're not paying attention to the show!"

Better keep an eye on it.

She finds out that she didn't have to worry – _much_ – when she gives Chloe's apartment a deep cleaning the next day. She compiles the different 'projects' – ideas for the Bellas, potential birthday gifts for family, plans for the year – based on the layer of dust on the objects, and places them into plastic storages that she hauled from the five-dollar store.

And right before she tries to scrub off the wine stain from Chloe's bedside table, she gently lifts the pair of expensive looking headphones and places them in the drawer. She's sure her best friend won't mind: Chloe's never been shy about seeking relief – alone or otherwise – and she's no longer surprised after many…incidences…throughout college.

What she didn't expect to find, however, were stacks and stacks of CDs. The handwriting on each cover piques her interest: written in an almost lazy scrawl – so familiar that she can almost hear Mitchell reading the words in her drawl – is Chloe's name, followed by a sequence of numbers.

She flips through the CDs, which are surprisingly all in their cases (Having loaned CDs and DVDs to Chloe for four years, she'd become a world champion in hunting down disc-shaped objects if it were a sport.)

As she reaches disc number 80, it hits her that the sequence of numbers are dates – one every week since they graduated. Out of curiosity – she's pretty sure it's not _all_ Chloe's lady jam – she retrieves a few CD from the stack. She's no stranger to how good Beca's music is, and could certainly use a pick-me-up.

She plugs in Chloe's headphones and sits back.

.

.

They need to have that talk tonight.

\--------

"Chloe…" She starts as they lie on the couch, happy and full.

"Hmm?" Chloe asks lazily, one hand rubbing her stomach from the big home cooked dinner, the other swirling a wine which price Aubrey will never reveal. She's a Posen – of course she came prepared.

"What's going on between you and Beca?"

Chloe groans. "Bree, I told you – nothing."

"Really? Because it seemed like…" _Hook._

"What do you mean?" The wine stops swirling in the glass now.

"I mean, yesterday…" _Line._

"What about it, Aubrey?"

"Nevermind."

Aubrey pours herself another glass and leans back.

"Things changed a little after the retreat," Chloe says with a sigh.

_Sinker._

She doesn't respond with words, merely raising her eyebrows and letting her plan take its course.

"It wasn't some big…whatever, but Beca broke up with Jesse, and we just…we got closer, I guess," Chloe continues.

"But she's in L.A. and I'm here, and we're both so caught up in our lives that it's better this way."

"Who?" Aubrey asks. "Who said that? Did you, or did she?"

"Nobody did – some things you just know, y'know?"

And that was that. She still doesn't trust Mitchell completely, but at least she's not back with that Treblemaker, and the proof of the pudding…well, she saw all 80 of it.

Number 81 arrives a few days before she returns to the Lodge, left at the front door. However, the name on the package was hers instead of Chloe's. There's another CD along with her best friend's, but instead of a sequence of dates, it's a simple _"Hang in there, Posen."_

She doesn't hesitate to borrow Chloe's music player this time, and smiles when she finds out that the quality is just as good as that of Chloe's CDs. The playlist starts with their winning medley, and the rest of the songs are those that the old, loser Bella Aubrey Posen would love to hate.

But now, those songs only remind her of…courage.

Maybe she's no longer the old Aubrey.

Maybe she doesn't need to be the old Aubrey.

And maybe, just maybe – she's happier than when she was the old Aubrey.

That night, as Chloe concentrates on work, Aubrey drafts a long email to her father, telling him firmly that she has decided not to pursue a professional degree (for now), and explaining her reasons. Instead of tearing a hole on the floor waiting for his reply like she previously would, she lies on the couch instead and strokes Chloe's hair while her best friend reads up on a particularly challenging case.

The weather almost freezes her ears off the next morning, and she nearly gives someone a concussion with the box an hour later, but she's happy with the result. Before she leaves, she captures a photo of the filled CD rack beside Chloe's bed, and along with one of Chloe listening to the music that she sneakily took, emails them to Beca.

She places number 81 on the bedside table with a note for Chloe before she leaves, and hopes for the best.

 

* * *

 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to pay our final tribute of respect to that of…"

Judging the turnout, Posen Senior commanded the respect, if not the liking, of the people around him. Aubrey recognizes most of them from the various photographs placed in her father's den: comrades, partners and associates in the law firm – even a few judges – all with a similar stature, suit and expressions.

Their condolences to her when they reached the house a few hours before might have been well meant, but most faded into white noise for her.

Then came Chloe's special guest, clothes smelling of the airport, breath smelling of too much coffee and hair all out of place, rushing in like how she always did in her first year of Bella rehearsals. She squeezes Chloe's hand – mainly to stop her best friend from squealing and clapping as if she's just seen a seal carry off a nifty trick, and Chloe squeezes right back.

_Yes, Chloe, I know._

At least Beca had the good sense not to follow Chloe when she took Beca's duffel bag into the guest room, choosing to speak to Aubrey first and remained in the queue. Aubrey kept an eye on her while she greeted other guests – while unkempt from the trip, the sleeker (than collegiate wear) clothes and dark circle under her eyes somehow made her junior look more…worldly.

Polished.

That thought was destroyed two minutes later, when Beca started fidgeting impatiently and glaring at people who invaded her personal bubble, which seemed to be as big as it was years ago. Her junior almost growled when the well dressed young man in front of her accidentally stepped on her shoes, and merely sneered when he apologized profusely.

Needing a bit of relief from the somber mood – and more honestly, as if she'd give up on a chance to give Beca a hard time – she gave Bradley the well dressed man an extra tight hug when he reached her. She didn't bother hiding her smile when Beca's eyes widened, and rolled her eyes when her junior smirked – the thought "it figures" apparent on her face.

Aubrey didn't deny it – Bradley Finn Thomas the Third, top of his class, son of a partner and a fast-rising associate in the law firm, is the ideal partner for Aubrey, according to Posen Senior.

Prior to The Big Fight about attending law school – and if not, medical, as Posen Senior conceded at one point – Bradley Finn Thomas the Third and his family were invited to Thanksgiving, and any interaction between her and Bradley got the matrons of the two family talking excitedly, while the patrons pretended not to notice.

But it was also when Aubrey was reconsidering her five-year post-college plan, and while she knew that she was just as driven and ambitious, she also wondered what else was there apart from the conventional, well traveled, road.

Partly to assuage her guilt for even _thinking_ about going off track, she went along with Posen Senior's recommendation, dressed up for her wine-and-dine dates with the Third, allowing nothing but a short kiss at the front porch afterwards, and exchanged appropriate gifts when their family came over for Christmas.

It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy herself – he was good looking, he was polite, he was never late, and he played by the rules.

Then he started talking about how both of them would take the firm to the next level, where they could expand, and possible dates for their wedding, and Aubrey just had to fly off the next day because of an "emergency" at The Lodge. And while Posen Senior never quite approved of that "camp counsellor stint", he respected her work ethic well enough to let her leave.

It was just as well that the blow up happened not too long after that, and the (mostly unanswered) calls from Bradley stopped.

And there he was, conveying his condolences and acting as if nothing happened after her escape.

Then came that familiar huff, one that Aubrey was sure came with an eye roll.

She made sure to return it when she pulled away from Bradley, simply smiling when she saw Chloe beaming at them.

\-----

"…much as it has pleased Almighty God to take out of this world –"

Having run like clockwork for the past week, she catches on the slight pause from the priest, even if he picked up the committal less than a second later. She finds the source of the hesitation in even less time – Chloe's having a difficult time controlling her sobs, it seems.

She feels the questions coming from people around them – the stoic Posens versus the crying outsider – but she pays no heed.

The scenario is nothing out of the ordinary for her. Aubrey knows she is what she is, and no matter how much she changes – or evolves – a core part of her will still hold a tight leash over her emotions, even if it comes at a cost to her.

But when she became friends with Chloe, it started to hurt less. When someone tells a rolling-on-the-floor type of joke, Chloe laughs a full-belly, unrestrained laughter for her; when someone dumps her for being "too uptight and intense", Chloe eats twice the amount of Rocky Road ice cream she does; and following incidents such as Pukegate, when she no longer travels home for the holidays, and now, _this_ –

No, as far as she's concerned, the funeral attendees who judge them just because they don't have a friend to cry their tears can fuck right off. For years, her only worry has been who, then, would cry Chloe's tears for her, until she sees the fiercest little creature gripping her best friend's hand and glaring at everyone, daring them to keep staring.

Under normal circumstances, she would cringe at the lack of decorum, but it's not a _normal_ day for her, a non-Posen member is the only one crying for the late patriarch of her family, and she can't even think about whether she regrets going her own way right now, but now…things might be alright

 

* * *

 

One, two.

One, two.

Stepping on to the porch, she wonders why she thought she could push her feelings away until tomorrow. Her father had never given them 'just enough time' to fulfill their deadlines, and this seems to be no exception.

This is her first view of the sunset as a fatherless child, and the moment is – ruined by her rebel of a stomach.

She looks around for Chloe, trusting that her best friend, as always, would save a plate for her. It then occurs to her that she didn't see Chloe at lunch – instead, it was Beca who made a beeline to the buffet table as soon as she spotted Chloe's favorite food, nearly elbowing the colonels and generals that she was avoiding just a minute ago.

She almost laughed at the sight, and was about to look for Chloe until her mother called her to her father's den.

The lawyer was waiting for them.

And now, as the sky darkens, she's watching her best friend sitting side by side with Beca, deep in conversation.

"It's just so hard sometimes," Chloe says. "Funding is scarce, and I'm not sure if our work is actually doing any good, y'know?"

"Hey, don't say that," Beca replies, wrapping her arm around Chloe's shoulder. "I'm sure you are, and look at the texts that the kids' sent to you! And look – whatever it is, it's contributing way more to society than, I dunno, producing jingles for ads."

"Those jingles are _good_ jingles, Beca! Imagine how they brighten the days of the people who hear it first thing in the morning."

"Sure, Beale – keep it up and I might sample your lady jam and use it on a really sleazy ad."

"Don't you dare!" Chloe laughs and slaps Beca's arm. "And I meant what I said. But Beca?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad."

"About?" Beca says.

"That you're pursuing your dreams, even if it's still paying your dues. I can't wait for the world to hear your work once you're unleashed."

Aubrey's loathe to interrupt their time together, but the sky is darkening and the view is beautiful and angry and sad and…

"Aubrey."

She jumps, not expecting Bradley to have followed her.

And now he's gone and disrupt Chloe and Beca, who are walking towards them.

"Yo, Posen – we've saved a plate for you."

"Oh, there's no need for Aubrey to eat leftovers," Bradley says. "I hope to take her out for dinner tonight – just to help her clear her head."

She _knows_ from Beca's expression that she's about to retort, and quickly steps forward. "It's okay, Brad – I think I'm good here."

"But –"

"But what, _Bradley_?" Beca says.

"I thought you might want to discuss your plans, after…"

"After what, Bree?" Great. Now he's got Chloe concerned.

"It's nothing, Chloe," she says, biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

"But it's not nothing! Aubrey, your father's just –"

"Hey! We've got it. Why don't you have a scotch or something in the house and chill for a minute? Look, I'll even pour it for you." For all her _lateness_ and _denseness_ in other areas of her life, Beca understands what she needs now.

And it's not The Third.

As soon as Beca and Bradley step into the house, Chloe envelops her in a hug so tight she can barely breathe. "Bree, what happened?"

She shakes her head, unable to reply still.

"It's okay – take all the time you need. I'm here," Chloe whispers, rubbing her back in large strokes.

It's dark out when she's gained control over her emotions, and slowly recounts her afternoon to Chloe.

"It's the will – he wanted it to be disclosed immediately after. That's why we got called away."

"Oh, Bree."

"No, Chloe, it's – it's okay. He um…he left at least half of his assets to me."

"What? That's great news! But…"

"Why, right? It's," she takes a deep breath, "He says – I mean he said – even if I didn't pick the path that he wanted, he respected my conviction and thought I should use the money to help people build better teams. Become better comrades. That sort of thing."

"Oh, Bree."

"I know."

"He really loved you."

"Yeah."

They sit for a while, Chloe holding her hand tight while she rides the waves of emotions.

"Chloe?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to visit him with me tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"He um…he's always liked fresh lilies," she says. "Can you remind me to bring some?"

"I will."

"Thanks. For everything."

"Always."

Beca steps on to the porch just then, holding several beers that Aubrey doesn't remember ordering. She takes one anyway, clinking their bottles together in silence. She badly wants to stay where they are until they can't anymore, but feels that she's been shrinking from hosting duties long enough.

"Where's Bradley?" she asks.

"I introduced him to the girls," Beca says and shrugs, indicating that that should take care of it. "Speaking of the girls..."

They look up.

"They want to head to the lake at sunrise, before we leave. It's supposed to be some kind of Bellas bonding thing. D'you wanna come with? Show us how it's done?" Beca says, grimacing at the B word.

She can tell that her junior's trying to be as nonchalant as possible, but practically _feels_ Beca watching Chloe's response out of the corner of her eyes. Hiding a smile, she stays quiet and looks at her best friend.

"We have to be somewhere first, but we'll try to join you afterwards?" Chloe says.

She senses the disappointment in Beca's half-nod, but is grateful for Chloe's…choice, if that's the word for it. "Sorry, Beca, we just –"

"Hey, don't worry about it, Posen," Beca interrupts. "I get it."

She knows Beca does – she's certain that Beca gets more than that, having heard about her parental issues from Chloe long ago.

She sips her beer and watches them both, noticing how their hands stay in contact. She had never thought that their reunion would be like this, and how out of all of them, she's the one who's not pursuing what she had planned to.

But they are still Bellas, and she sees something common in all of them. Something she thought her dad had missed seeing in her, until this afternoon.

"My dad would have liked you," she blurts to Beca.

"Oh yeah?" Beca smirks. "Including the ear monstrosities?"

"Beca," Chloe chides.

Beca apologizes and says, "So why, Posen?"

"A similarity."

Beca tips her head in question, and Aubrey grins this time, one as wide as as the crescent moon.

_"Courage."_

The other Bellas come stumble out through the front door, half drunk – _typical_ – a few minutes later and pulls Beca off to "deal with Bradley". Chloe begs off the excursion and stays with her, giving her a really big hug.

She may have squirmed and slowly detached herself from Chloe's nine years ago, but she also knew nothing about anything then. The older and wiser Aubrey Posen, now head of her family, stays still and lets her best friend surround her with love.

Maybe there's hope for her yet.


End file.
